Apparently, the extra duties of keeping Noah and his herd safe have completely done me in.
Mom (me… moi… KatieKate… the one in charge of dinners and permission slips and shoe-tying) is sick. Siiiiick. That awful sick where you can’t really ask your spouse to stay home (you are coherent, after all) but you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck and then backed over. The kind of sick where it honestly feels better to just sleep on the hard floor.
Please send ginger ale.
And start praying for Noah now. I have no idea what his future holds. I will be playing a lot of “fort” and “hide and seek,” which will allow me to lie on the carpet while the kids use my body like a jungle gym.
See you Monday.
If I make it.